


The Death Chamber

by Willowingends



Series: The Department of Mysteries [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Parent Death, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowingends/pseuds/Willowingends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luna Lovegood was accustomed to the thought of death. She was familiar with it, she had accepted it. Coming face to face with the actual concept though, that was a different matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death Chamber

At a young age, Luna had become accustomed to the thought of death. 

Well, as much as a young child could.

Well, as much as she, as a Lovegood, could. 

She was raised to believe in the odd, the strange, to look beyond what was presented and make up her own theories for what happened. And sometimes they were true, and sometimes, they were not, but it was always easier to live in a fantasy than it was to face the truth.

Not that Luna was stuck in her fantasy, mind you. She simply knew where it was most comfortable to dwell, what was best to ignore, what was best to explain otherwise.

Death, however, was not one of them. 

Death was not something she ignored or hid from. Why hide from something that had your mother, had half of your heart and half your father's heart. Why hide from something you didn't fear?

Luna had never feared death, but she had never given much thought to it either. It was what happened to everyone, even those who tried to outrun it, tried to outlive it. It was the end to a long, harrowing story that every set of feet traveled.

She had never thought she would come face to face with the unknown aspect of death.

She had never desired to. The unknown would be explained eventually, and she would wait for it. She would not chase after it, she would not seek it. There were many more exciting, living things to study. Like Thestrals, symbols of death but not the calling card, or Wrackspurts, the death of thought but not a permanent one. Those had always been more interesting at the end of the day, when compared to dwelling over the sadness that was the finality of death.

Her mother would wait for her and her father, and they would explore the land of death together.

 

She had never thought to hear her mother's voice again. To be lured before her time. She had had those nightmares and chased them away, she had never thought to hear her in the waking world.

Yet, behind that curtain, she could hear her. The whispering words of comfort. Telling her death was not painful, nor scary, nor dark. It was bright and brilliant and filled with all the amazing things she longed to experience and see. She'd be safe, and held warmly in her mother's arms again. She'd never cry out of loneliness again, or the guilt that she felt when she knew her father missed her mother and Luna's bright smiles and wide eyes only reminded him of her. 

Such an alluring promise. No more teasing, no more torments, all of her desire to learn and know would be granted, and all her explanations would make sense. 

Her mother whispered and promised her, just step beyond the curtain, just come through the curtain and they could be together again. Her and her mother, and they would go together to get her father, and they would be a happy, normal family.

Just like she had always wanted.

Just like she had always wanted, come Luna, through the curtain, into the unknown that you've never feared. 

The room was so cold, and the veil fluttered in a light breeze. A breeze that carried warmth and the promise of happiness and safety once again. Just on the other side of the veil would be her mother and eternal sunshine and eternal happiness.

She only had to reach out, step through.

 

And then logic, and reason, and her friends returned to her. They were not here for her and her mother. They were here for Harry and his godfather, and she was with friends. Friends who cared for her and did not tease her or torment her. Friends she could not leave behind now that she had found them.

And she turned, delicately, without hesitation, away from the voice of her mother, of the promise of peace and happiness. Because she was happy here, with her friends, and she had not yet earned the right to peace of heart and mind. She had so much left to explore, and a father at home who needed her more than she needed him at times, and friends who would miss her if she went with her mother.

She took Ginny's hand as they continued moving forward, and did not look back.

 

And perhaps that moment, that choice, would torment her in years to come. When she was trapped in a dark cellar with no light and only a grumpy goblin, an old but wise man, and a classmate who had never really known her for company. Trapped in a dark cellar where no wonder reached her, only worry for her father, for her friends, for the life she had left to live.

Would she have been happy, beyond the veil? Would she have been safe and have the ability to watch over all those she cared for?

If she had turned around, would she have seen her mother's sad face as she walked away? She was certain of it, some nights, when tears consumed her and helplessness ate away at her bright spirit. In the dark, when everyone was asleep, she whispered and begged for her mother to come back to her, to free her, to take her home with her to that warmth and safety where nothing hurt and everything shone with a brightness that could not be named but surely existed. 

The unknown was what had always awaited her, and she wished she had taken that chance to learn, if only to avoid this lesson on cruelty, and hatred, and bitter darkness that consumed all sense of hope and light.

 

When they were rescued from Malfoy Manor, Luna cried softly to herself, away from everyone else on the beaches of Shell Cottage. The breeze was warm, the light was soft, and she was safe with friends. 

She liked to believe the world her mother had called her to looked something like this. With her friends, with her mother, with this warmth and crashing of the sea, with the bitter bite of sorrow on the back of the tongue when one saw a carved stone or missed their father's shadow behind them, watching them.

She liked to believe she had made the right choice, to live through these trials instead of taking her mother's hand.

She liked to believe in all sorts of fantastic things.


End file.
